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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28992390">livvy, livvy, livvy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastlives_0411/pseuds/lovelydays'>lovelydays (pastlives_0411)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Adventures of Valerie Carstairs [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(specifically livvy ty kit and val lost family), Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Hurt a Little Comfort, Livvy Dies and Valerie feels pain, Pain, a little canon divergent?, emma and her are just real close, fluff at the start, i'll explain it in some other story idk, lost family, not much, not very, then Valerie gets ripped away from the things she loves most, val isn't an biological carstairs or anything</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:14:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,513</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28992390</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastlives_0411/pseuds/lovelydays</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Livvy,” you say, testing the name out, and the grin grows impossibly wider.<br/>For a moment she’s made out of gold and bronze and sea and stars, and her name repeats in your head, like it’s the only word in the world.<br/>How could a name be so lovely?<br/>Over and over and over again:<br/>Livvy, Livvy, Livvy.</em>
</p><p>Or: Valerie Carstairs is the runaway Seelie Princess with a lot on her mind - but what does any of that matter, when faced with the lovely Livia Blackthorn?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Livia Blackthorn/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Adventures of Valerie Carstairs [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126823</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>livvy, livvy, livvy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Listen to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yKNxeF4KMsY">this</a> while reading, for vibe reasons.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You were 11 when you first met Livia Blackthorn.</p><p>You were terrified back then - running away from Faerie and the silk confines and unkind smiles of her mother's court.</p><p>It was daunting - what would you do if you were caught? How far would the Seelie Queen’s mercy extend? - but it was the only choice you had left, wasn’t it? Your only chance at freedom.</p><p>You can’t quite remember how you left Faerieland - the large details of the day were murky. Your last memories of Faerieland are silently slipping into your infant brother's room, pressing a kiss and an apology to his brow, before running off into the night.</p><p>That was your one regret - Ash. You hadn’t seen your brother again. You hated yourself a little for leaving him, but it was your only choice. Ash was more prised than you were in the Seelie court. Ash would be more hated than you were in the mortal realm.</p><p>You can still remember the feeling when you first set foot in LA. You had grown up in Faerieland, seen a number of impossible things, but when you saw the way those large glass buildings lit up, so the aliveness of the city - you think it may have been the first time you felt wonder.</p><p>After a few days, the wonder began to wear off. You were hungry and tired, and you had no clue where the nearest Shadow Market was - or if you’d even be welcome. You had no money, and you didn’t dare try to talk to or take from any of the mundanes, in case the Shadowhunters got whiff of your presence.</p><p>Like how you can’t remember how you left Faerie, you can’t remember how you got to the beach, but you did. You remember the feel of the sand, between your toes and sticking to your palms, wondering if you could eat it as you grew hungry, hungry and hungrier. Your last memory was of a tall, imposing building, covered in the scent of glamour, only a little off in the distance before everything went dark.</p><p>That was when you met her.</p><p>You were shaken awake, eyelids heavy as they parted, and there she was, angelic runes, blue eyes and a mouth made to smile so tragically downturned in worry.</p><p>She was the loveliest thing you had ever seen.</p><p>And she looked familiar.</p><p>You remember someone with a shock of white hair asking you to tell them the story of James Herondale, remember them being upset when they did not get the information they wanted. Remember how angry your mother had gotten - that you’d not been useful, or helpful.</p><p>And you remember a glimpse of a portrait, of a woman with brown hair and bright blue eyes and a mischievous smile and a tragic tale.</p><p>And you remembered the name.</p><p>“Lucie... Herondale...?” you breathed and the girl blinked, brows furrowing. You realise your fall a second late - this girl wasn’t Lucie Herondale - she was much too young, probably as old as you - and her eyes were a shade too dark - like the ocean, rather than the sky. Her hair was different too - a little thicker, and cut a little choppier, as if the one who cut it wasn’t sure of what they were doing.</p><p>You think you might prefer the look of her. </p><p>“Herondale?” said a voice. It wasn’t the girl that wasn’t Lucie Herondale - her mouth did not move, and your tutors had told you the only Shadowhunters who could communicate telepathically were Silent Brothers. The girl did not look like a brother at all.</p><p>“I don’t know,” said not-Lucie shrugging, and looking in the direction of The Voice, “I’m not Lucie Herondale, but I want to help you,” she says looking back down at you, and it’s only then that you realise you're cradled in her arms.<br/>
“Hey-” said The Voice, but not-Lucie looks in its direction with eyes full of such sorrow that you think only the truly heartless could deny her then.</p><p>“Emma, pleeeeease? She’s obviously not a threat- she’s half dead!”</p><p>The Voice - Emma, is quiet, and then proves she has a heart when she says:</p><p>“Fine. But you need to explain to Jules and Diana. I’m not doing it.”</p><p>“Yay you’re the best Emma!” says not-Lucie, with such joy in her voice, such a lovely smile, that your heart constricts and you’re sure that you might have died and not-Lucie was your own special angel - or torment.</p><p>“But,” says Emma, and you chance a look at her. Blonde hair that glinted in the light of the moon like pieces of silver, narrowed eyes and a fearsome scar running down her arm. Though she could only be a few years older than you she is every part the Shadowhunter bogeyman you were warned of in your mother's courts. “You have to swear that you will bring no harm to anyone inside the Institute faerie - and if you do, you’ll have to answer to Cortana.”</p><p>“I swear it. I will not harm anyone inside that institute - nor do I want to,” you manage out, and Emma Carstairs, bearer of Cortana, a legendary sword made by Wayland the Smith, studies your face. She seems satisfied with your answer and helps not-Lucie carry you.</p><p>“What’s your name?” not-Lucie asks. She smells like seafoam, lilac, and kindness, and she’s strong. You suspect she could easily carry you herself.</p><p>“You may call me Valerie,” you say, giving her the name you are called, not the one you were born with. You never wanted to risk accidentally giving away your name - not if you were fae.</p><p>“I’m Livvy Blackthorn - don’t be disappointed I’m not a Herondale. They’re cool and I’m flattered, but the Blackthorns are way cooler,” she says grinning.</p><p>“Livvy,” you say, testing the name out, and the grin grows impossibly wider. For a moment she’s made out of gold and bronze and sea and stars, and her name repeats in your head, like it’s the only word in the world. </p><p>How could a name be so lovely?</p><p>Over and over and over again:</p><p>
  <em> Livvy, Livvy, Livvy. </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>You’re 14 and you’re reckless. You’re more mortal now than Faerie princess, but Livvy says you're still all Fae, how you walk and how you smile. </p><p>Livvy says she likes it.</p><p>You like it when Livvy likes it.</p><p>Your immediate world is small, you only ever need the Blackthorns and Emma Carstairs - you’ve borrowed her last name for a while, you like the way Valerie Carstairs sits on your tongue. Emma says it suits you - that you’re a Carstairs woman through and through. You like how that makes you feel.</p><p>You love all the Blackthorns, but most of all you love Ty and Livvy. Ty and his mysteries and his kindness and his animals. Ty had lent you Sherlock Holmes two or so weeks after you first arrived at the institute. You’d never read anything but poems before. You’d never heard any stories that weren’t true before.</p><p>But Ty isn’t there that night. Ty had something to do. Had waved away a request to come down to the beach where Livvy was.</p><p>The institute’s car is parked down the beach and Livvy is sitting in the driver's seat. The back of her car seat is pushed back, and her golden legs are propped up on the dashboard, her head bopping along to whatever song was playing from the old radio. She wears blue shorts, a tank top and a white knit cardigan that you remember buying with her. She smiles when she sees you, waving you over. You wave back.</p><p>“How’d you get the car here?”</p><p>“Drove it myself,” she says grinning, but you roll your eyes.</p><p>“Livia Blackthorn is a liar,” you muse to yourself as you get into the passenger's seat, propping your legs up like Livvy. </p><p>“I got Emma to do it.”</p><p>And for a minute you just sit there, in a perfect state of silence, listening to the radio. Livvy seems to love the song, and you love the way her shoulders move to the beat. The view from the car was beautiful - an expanse of ocean and stars. If you squinted, the lines all blurred and you couldn’t be sure where the sky started and the ocean ended. </p><p>“Val?” says Livvy suddenly, breaking you out of your silence. You turn to look at her, and the full force of her frightens you, silky brown hair a little tangled, a little messy, as if she had dried it but not brushed it, and blue-green eyes that seemed to hold a whole universe of mysteries, each an ocean of its own that you found yourself drowning in.</p><p>The full force of Livia Blackthorn and she’s focused entirely on you.</p><p>“Val,” she says again, “I have something to tell you.”</p><p>“Yeah,” you say, words failing you, “Okay.”</p><p>“I… well, I… ugh,” she groaned suddenly, closing her eyes and burying her face in her hands.</p><p>“I had this whole thing prepared, Emma even helped me but- well now that I’m <em> here </em>, I just, I don’t know? How on earth did Cam do this?”</p><p>“Livvy? Are you ok?” you ask, worried. Livvy seems genuinely distressed but she steadies herself and takes a deep breath.</p><p>“I’m good I just- I like you, Val. I like you a lot. Not just in the way friends do but in like- a <em> romantic </em>way.”</p><p>You were not expecting this. You were not expecting this at all. You’re not sure what to say, so you just stare, mouth agape. </p><p>Livvy withers under your stare, bottom lip shaking as if she was about to cry - you are suddenly very much aware of Livia Blackthorn’s lips.</p><p>“I’m so sorry Val, I’ve just fucked everything over, haven’t I-,”</p><p>“No!” you exclaim suddenly, words suddenly finding a way back to you, “No, not at all! I love you too!”</p><p>Now it’s Livvy’s turn to stare because you’ve just said the L-word. <em> Romantically. </em> Your cheeks burn, and you feel like curling into a ball and going into hiding. Just as you’re about to bury <em> your </em> face in <em> your </em>hands - a perfect mirror of Livvy’s prior pose - you feel a hand on your cheek.</p><p>“You love me?” asks Livvy, hand cupping your cheeking ever so gently - like you were made of glass, and she might shatter you.</p><p>“Yeah,” you say because you’re Faerie and you can’t lie. Even if you could, you doubt you could lie to Livvy.</p><p>Livvy edges closer and you swallow.</p><p>“Would it be ok if I kissed you now?” she asks quietly, but you catch the hitch in her voice all the same.</p><p>All you can really do in this situation is nod - words have once again abandoned you.</p><p>Her lips are soft, and you like the taste of her strawberry lip gloss. You remember picking it out for her - saying it matched her. It really does. Livvy smells like the sea and lavender, and the faint burning that accompanied all Shadowhunters. Her hair is like silk between your fingers, and her own fingers are so soft. If you could do one thing for the rest of your immortal life it would be this.</p><p>Kissing Livvy is like falling into the sky, and endless fall stars passing by as short bursts of light. Kissing Livvy is like falling into the sky but <em> better </em> because instead of falling into the sky, you’re falling into her, a blinding light, more glorious than any angel. </p><p>There’s nothing else in the world anymore, but you and her. Your mind repeats that familiar mantra - the one that’s been leading you since that day on the beach three years ago.</p><p>Over and over again.</p><p>
  <em> Livvy, Livvy, Livvy. </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>When Livia Blackthorn dies, you’re not there.</p><p>Tessa Gray’s the one to tell you. Maybe that worsens the blow. That it’s not Emma, or Ty or Kit, but a woman you hardly knew.</p><p>Maybe it worsens the blow because Tessa Gray reminds you of what Livvy will look like in a few years’ time. Would have looked like in a few years' time.</p><p>When she knocks on your apartment door - you had spent so much time working for in order to keep up rent, it was expensive because it was beachside but you couldn’t stand the thought of being away from Livvy - her face was pale and sunken as if she had been crying. She wears a simple grey dress, and her hands are tightly clenched at her sides.</p><p>You instantly dread what she was going to tell you.</p><p>“Is Livvy ok?” you ask instinctively because it’s the question that’s been on your mind since they left for Idris without you, telling you having one member of Faerie royalty was dangerous enough. Tessa’s bottom lip wobbles, and she opens her mouth to say something but closes it again.</p><p>You don’t think you’ve ever felt a more acute pain pierce your chest. You feel yourself being properly torn in two, as Tessa tries her best to gently explain what happened - that Annabel Blackthorn went mad, that Emma broke the mortal sword, that Livvy went to get a crossbow - to help her brother, the sweet girl was trying to help Julian - that Annabel Blackthorn flung the broken shard of the mortal sword right into sweet, sweet Livvy. Tessa doesn’t tell you the last bit, but it’s a tragic story, and you tell it to yourself under your breath, your power not failing you in the one instance it matters.</p><p>“She was brave, Valerie, she was so, so brave,” says Tessa.</p><p>“She shouldn’t have had to be,” you manage to choke out. Tessa looks at you with sad eyes.</p><p>“She was a Shadowhunter,”</p><p>“She is <em> mine </em>,” you say quietly. You refuse to speak of Livvy in the past tense - she still is yours, she will always be yours.</p><p>Tessa is silent, but she looks at you with understanding. A knowledge of what it is to lose someone too young. You hate the looks so much.</p><p>“When’s the funeral,” you ask, suddenly remembering that there was still that you could be part of - you could still say goodbye, and be beside Ty and the Blackthorns and Emma and Kit who would all know your pain, “I know that it’s dangerous, but even if it’s from afar I- I want to see her one last time-,”</p><p>You’re suddenly aware of how close you are to crying.</p><p>“The funeral- it’s- it’s already done Valerie,” says Tessa.</p><p>If you were split in two before, now you are fracturing, becoming dust so fine, no one can see the particles that were once you.</p><p>Tessa is trying to comfort you, but you can’t hear anything she says properly.</p><p>“When Will died I-,”</p><p>“At least Will got to live! He got married and had kids and died old but Livvy’s only 15!” you don’t mean to yell, but it’s a yell anyway, and it’s a horrible thing to say to someone who only wants to make you feel better but Tessa’s a stranger to you anyway, and it’s easy to be mean to her. It’s such a cruel thing to think, but you think maybe you’ve always been cruel. Maybe something genetic in you is cruel and mean and broken - looking at your parents, your cruel mother, and your father, who you never knew but you had gathered well enough was no kind man. Maybe Livvy locked up that part of your heart, but now that she was gone-</p><p>Tessa is looking at you stunned. You feel terrible, and you can’t stop crying, and the more you look at Tessa, the more you see the woman who lovely Livvy would have become. You can’t stand it.</p><p>Before you know it, you’re running out. You don’t know how far you run - it feels like nothing. It’s probably you’re being Faerie that allows you to do this - run and run, so fast, hardly feeling tired.</p><p>While you run and cry and run, all you can think of is Livvy.</p><p>
  <em> Livvy, calling your name just to see you look at her. Livvy, already at your apartment when you arrive, with an innumerable number of snacks. Livvy, trying on dresses, and dresses, and dresses, and somehow looking lovely in all of them- </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Livvy, being struck down by the Mortal Sword, Livvy, trying to form sounds, form words, in vain, Livvy bleeding out in her big brother's arms, Livvy, gone- </em>
</p><p>Somehow you’ve made it to the beach. Where you and Livvy began. You’re screaming at this point, your sobs coming out harshly, tears rolling down your cheeks.</p><p>
  <em> Livvy, threading her fingers through your black hair. Livvy, and your own fingers in her silky brown hair. Livvy, and her golden legs, and lovely golden arms. Livvy, holding you as you watch the stars from the beach. Livvy- </em>
</p><p><em> Livvy, her body in a strange white dress, that doesn’t look like </em>her<em>. Livvy, atop one of those Shadowhunter funeral pyres, looking tiny, looking so small. Livvy going up in flames. Livvy, ashes. </em></p><p>You feel arms wrap around you, and Tessa Gray is holding you, despite everything, despite what you said. And you once again, lose every thought but Livvy. Drown in the memory of her eyes and nose and the curve of her sweet mouth.</p><p>
  <em> Livvy, kissing you. Livvy, dead. Livvy, holding your hand. Livvy, dead. Livvy, laughing. Livvy, dead. Livvy, full of love, full of life. Livvy, dead. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Livvy, Livvy, Livvy. </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>Livia Blackthorn dances, hovering above the ocean as if she were a dream.</p><p>She’s not much more than a dream now, a memory. A ghost. It’s not her fault though. Even in death, Livvy is perfect to you.</p><p>“Val?”</p><p>You turn, forcing yourself to look away from Livvy. You think it’s probably for the better, to stop looking at her. It still hurts you though. </p><p>“What? Thought you’d seen the last of me?” you say more cheerful than you feel, plastering your best attempt at a smile onto your face. Kit’s mouth is agape as he walks over to you, bag in hand, Tessa and Jem following closely behind. The latter two seem to take notice of his face - or rather the expression of dread written all over it.</p><p>“We’ll give the two of you some time,” says Jem, and you thank him internally. Kit watches forlornly as the pair walk some distance away - out of earshot you note - leaving only the two of you.</p><p>“How did you know I was leaving?” asks Kit.</p><p>“You tried to leave without saying goodbye. I am your sister, and I at least deserve a parting gift,” Kit’s eyes seemed to widen impossibly at that last part, though you tried to infuse your words with sarcasm and nonchalance. </p><p>“Brother?” he sputtered, and you did your best not to feel hurt. Even if Kit didn’t want you around, he was all you had left - among friends and family.</p><p>“I- I know. About the First Heir stuff and all. Emma told me. I found Tessa and she told me you didn’t want to say goodbye to anyone and I told her I’m your sister and where you go I go-,” you stop yourself from babbling. You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye.</p><p>“You’re coming?”</p><p>“Yeah,” you say, gesturing vaguely to the duffel bag full of your things. </p><p>“What about- what about the others?”</p><p>“Emma’s going on travel year, and Ty’s going to Scholomance. You’re all I have Kit,” you don’t miss how Kit stiffens at Ty’s name. You add more quietly: “I’ve said goodbye to everyone already.”</p><p>Kit is silent, and you chance a look at him, but his expression is unreadable. You steel yourself for whatever he may say next. You’re prepared to stand your ground if need be.</p><p>“You’re more a great-something aunt than a sister you know,” says Kit wryly, and as sarcastic as it is, it makes your heart soar.</p><p>“I’m your sister,” you insist. Kit frowns.</p><p>“Well then sister,” says Kit. The sentence is strangely fae and feels out of place coming from his mouth, but it’s a good kind of strange. “We shouldn’t keep Tessa and Jem waiting, should we?”</p><p>“No, we shouldn’t,” you agree, and follow him up to where Tessa and Jem stand, ready to be portalled away to Devon. You chance a look at Livvy once more, and you feel like your heart stops.</p><p>She’s looking right at you. You can’t see her expression, she’s too far away, but her brown hair and white dress float delicately, not by the wind, but by her own ghostliness, her arms pressed close to her sides.</p><p>You wish you could promise yourself this is the last time. The last time you see her, the last time you drink her in, the last time you let your mind be filled with her, and her alone.</p><p>But you’re fae, and you cannot lie.</p><p>Even as you step through the portal, she’s all the flashes in your mind - the ghost of her, the memory of her, the imprint of the girl that once was.</p><p>
  <em> Livvy, Livvy, Livvy. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wanted to write angst + I love Livvy, so here we are! Feel free to ask any questions about Valerie, and I'll answer them either in the comments or via another fic.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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